


grounded

by fullmetalscully



Series: Moms Made Fullmetal Week 2020 [3]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Family, Family Bonding, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-26
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:53:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24390865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmetalscully/pseuds/fullmetalscully
Summary: Moms Made Fullmetal Week 2020 Day 3 - Disappointment or Apologies or Grounded
Relationships: Chris "Madam Christmas" Mustang & Roy Mustang
Series: Moms Made Fullmetal Week 2020 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1758241
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24
Collections: Moms Made Fullmetal Week 2020





	grounded

**Author's Note:**

> thank you  waddiwasiwitch  for creating such a lovely event for us to celebrate the mothers of fma

“Damn kid,” Madame Christmas grumbled as she rounded the bar.

“Tough night?” a voice asked from the opposite end, a wry smile on their face. With their hood up the Madame couldn’t see the patrons face, but she’d recognise that voice anywhere.

Christmas snorted. “No. Just a pest.”

“Cut the boy some slack, Madame,” the nasally female voice underneath the hood chuckled. “He’s still growing.”

“He’s growing into a pain in my ass,” she muttered.

The hood fell and the kindly face of an old woman smiled at the bar owner, their toothy grin on full show. “He’s a child,” she reminded Christmas cheerily. “Let him be.”

“I’ll do that when he’s not poking around my stock and breaking things.”

The old woman tutted and shook her head fondly.

Catching movement out the corner of her eye, Christmas turned and entered the back of the bar.

“Roy,” she called to her nephew as he tried to sneak up the stairs.

He froze on the third step, shoulders bunching up around his ears as he cringed. Dutifully though, he turned and descended the stairs he’d just climbed. His face was a scowl, eyes averted to the side. Christmas almost laughed. Boy, did he hate being told off.

“What have I told you about going in the stock room?”

“Don’t do it,” he mumbled, barely loud enough for her to hear.

“Don’t mumble,” she snapped. It was a pet peeve of hers.

The boy jumped, his spine straightening. It was like he had a broom strapped to it. At the fearful look in his eyes, Christmas willed herself to calm down. The old woman at the bar was right. He was still just a child, barely turned nine. She needed to remember to cool it when telling him off for something.

It had been hard in the beginning, and still was. Since the sudden death of her brother, Christmas had her nephew thrust upon her with no preparations whatsoever. She barely knew Roy, having only seen him at holidays. Even then, he avoided her because she intimidated the hell out of him. It hurt a little now to see him look so scared of her again. She knew she wouldn’t gain his trust or make his parents deaths any easier if she was too much of a hard ass on him, but he still had to learn.

“I’ve been told not to go inside the stock room, Madame,” Roy stammered.

Christmas took another deep breath.

“There is valuable stock in there, Roy. Most of its alcohol and you’re far too young to be exposed to that,” she explained, keeping her voice even. “And, you broke an expensive bottle.”

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, head bending forwards. Then, realising his mistake, his spine snapped back up and that fearful look was back on his face. “I – I mean, I’m sorry,” he stuttered once more.

“It’s all right.” Christmas crouched to lower to his eye level, narrowing her own eyes to get a better look at her nephew. There were no marks on his face from the falling bottle, but he stunk of whisky and she’d noticed the hand hidden behind his back. “Let me see that hand,” Christmas urged as gently as she could.

Roy debated showing the damage he’d done, but after a moment, he removed the closed fist from behind his back. Opening his fingers, she saw a small cut in the fleshy part of his thumb. Blood was oozing from it and had smeared across his palm and fingers from being clenched in a fist.

Christmas sighed and Roy shifted in stance at the sound. Grasping his hand gently, she turned his hand over, noting no other injury.

“Silly boy,” she tutted. Then, she cringed as Roy looked stricken. It was meant to be fond and teasing, but it didn’t help years of smoking had made her voice so gruff it sounded like she was scolding him. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” he replied quickly. Too quickly.

Christmas lifted an eyebrow at him, and he crumpled beneath her gaze.

“It does a little,” he mumbled. Although it was a pet hate, Christmas let this one slide. After all, he was just a kid. He’d made a dumb mistake, as kids do, and he’d been hurt. There had to be compromise somewhere with them, otherwise this would never work. The last thing Christmas wanted to do was turn her nephew against her.

“Go into the kitchen and bring through the red bag that is attached to the wall by the door. It’s the first aid kit,” Christmas directed. “Come on through to the bar and I’ll patch up that hand of yours, all right?”

Roy’s eyes widened to practically boggling at Christmas’ invite through to the bar. He was an inquisitive boy, always poking around places he shouldn’t be – tonight’s events were a prime example – and looking to find something new to study. Since the bar was off-limits, this was no doubt a dream come true for him.

As he hurried away, Christmas re-entered the bar. The old woman was grinning at her.

“I didn’t know you had such a soft heart in you,” the woman cooed.

“Grumman,” Christmas greeted.

The old man frowned. “What gave it away?”

“Your ugly face.”

Grumman’s mouth fell open as Christmas snorted.

“What a rude way to speak to an old lady,” he muttered in his high-pitched voice underneath his breath.

Roy poked his head nervously through to the bar, but his mouth parted in shock, eyes widening in wonder as he looked around the room. He’d never been through here at night before. Christmas had forbidden it. This was no place for a child at his age. But, again, there had to be compromise. He was too nosy for his own good and had snuck into the stock room. What next? Sneaking into the bar when the girls were working and hearing things he shouldn’t, especially at the age of nine?

“Hop up,” Christmas ordered, placing a stool in front of him. Roy did as directed and as Christmas began to work on his hand, his eyes scanned the room in his awe.

“Hello, dear,” Grumman greeted him in his female voice. Christmas just rolled her eyes.

“Hello,” Roy greeted politely.

“My name is Joyce,” Grumman lied. “What’s yours?”

“My name is Roy,” he replied, but cocked his head to the side. “Why do you have hair on your lips?”

Christmas burst out laughing, making her nephew jump at the sudden volume. Grumman’s moustache was beginning to grow back in probably a little quicker than the old man had hoped.

Grumman cleared his throat, dropping his act. “I’m undercover,” he whispered, leaning forward to speak conspiratorially to Roy. “I’m a secret agent and this is my disguise,” Grumman winked.

“You dressed up as a lady?”

Grumman nodded. “The perfect disguise for an old man like me.” Grumman nodded and tapped the side of his nose, indicating it was a secret. “Don’t tell anyone,” he warned in a whisper.

“There,” Christmas announced. She patted down Roy’s bandage then placed the wrappings down on the top of the bar. “All done.”

Roy lifted his hand and tried to peak underneath the gauze. “It’s hidden underneath there?”

“It’s wrapped up to make sure no dirt gets inside it and makes it a worse injury than it is,” she explained, taking his hand back in her own to tuck a stray piece underneath. “Now, since you broke the bottle, you’re grounded for the next two days. Do you understand?”

Roy’s smile fell from his face and he nodded as he forgot he’d be punished for his dangerous behaviour.

“Can’t have you sneaking in places where you’re not supposed to be again, understood?”

“Yes, Madame.”

She relaxed and straightened, lifting Roy’s hand to the light to examine her work. It was all clean and bandaged up nicely.

“You’re free to go, or you can sit here for a while, if you want?”

“I – I thought you said I was grounded?” Roy swallowed.

“You are. For the next two days. Tonight, doesn’t count.”

“Can… Can I stay here?” he asked, his eyes begging her to say yes.

Christmas didn’t know what it was about the bar that was drawing his interest so much. Perhaps it was because she’d forbidden it? Maybe it was because he’d never been somewhere like this before. In an ideal world, Christmas wouldn’t have him anywhere near here either, but this was not an ideal world – something she was all too aware of. It was up to her to educate him properly on her “business venture” and make sure he understood it correctly. That would all come in time, though. He was much too young to be worrying about such things.

“Of course, you can, Roy Boy.”

He beamed up at her, coming to sit upon his hands as his little legs swung on the stool. His injury was promptly forgotten in his excitement.

As Christmas moved to begin cleaning the glasses that had stacked up, she turned when she heard her nephew gasp.

“You have a piano,” he whispered in reverence.

“You play?” Christmas asked, lifting an eyebrow in surprise.

Roy nodded excitedly. “Mama had one.” He was practically bouncing in his seat. “Can I play?” he begged.

“Not tonight.” Roy’s face fell. “But tomorrow, you can show me what you’ve got.”

His eyes were practically sparkling. “I still have all of Mama’s music. It’s in my room. I’m going to read over it now!” Without another word, he hopped down from the bar stool and darted through the back and up the stairs. Christmas watched him go, shaking her head. Where he got all that energy from, she didn’t know.

“He’s a good kid,” Grumman stated, emptying his glass of wine.

“He is,” she agreed, turning to refill his empty glass.

“You’re fond of him,” he stated.

“More than fond,” she argued. “He’s my nephew.”

“Even when he’s breaking your stock?” Grumman chuckled, taking the now filled glass off Christmas.

“Even when he put a hole in my kitchen ceiling with his alchemy,” she sniffed. What kind of question was that? Of course, she loved her nephew.

“Alchemy, huh? Interesting…”

“What’s so interesting?” Christmas asked defensively. “What kind of plan are you cooking up, old man?” She narrowed her eyes dangerously at him.

“Plan?” Grumman echoed. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Christmas snorted and shot him a pointed look.

“It’s not a plan, just an idea. I know someone who may be able to teach him alchemy. It might save your house and your bar from further destruction if he’s disciplined in the science properly.”

Christmas considered it. It would certainly save her a boat load of worries if he learned from a proper teacher, rather than letting him loose with it inside the house with no way to channel his thirst for knowledge. It might save her ceiling from collapsing again.

“He’s desperate to learn and won’t quit bugging me about it,” she mused, looking at the door Roy had left through. However, he’d just come under her care and if he had to leave to go and study under someone, Christmas didn’t want Roy to think it was because she didn’t want him there.

“He’s at the perfect age to learn,” Grumman added.

“Why are you pushing this so hard?” Christmas retorted. “What’s this person to you?”

Grumman cast his eyes downwards. “Just an acquaintance,” he replied. Christmas knew for a fact he was lying. This mystery teacher was so much more than that.

“I’ll talk to Roy,” she stated. “When I think he’s ready. I can’t ground the kid then tell him he can go off an learn alchemy like he desperately wants to.”

Grumman chuckled. “I suppose not.”

“Plus, I’ve still got to hear him play piano,” she shrugged. “I might end up having a musician on my hands instead.” Christmas returned to her task of drying glasses.


End file.
